


A sick day

by NightRain712



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is a Good Alpha, It's not really the flu, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mpreg, Pre-Slash, much confusion, stiles has the flu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-11 11:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11713209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightRain712/pseuds/NightRain712
Summary: He's as sick as a dog and not at all up to dealing with pack bullshit, so when Derek calls him and says he's coming over, and then takes care of him, well... Things and feelings happen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's six am and I can't breathe out of my nose, my head hurts, and I tried to sleep for about five minutes when I gave up and then suddenly the plot bunny nudged me into writing about Stiles being sick like me.  
> Comments are welcome, let me know your thoughts. Should I add more? Would you guys want to see this as part of a sequel to my last story?  
> Also, not-beta'd, so mistakes are my own, but the characters are not. 

There's a pounding in Stiles's head that's nearly unbearable; it started as tension in his neck, with the need for it to be cracked, but he ignored it, resisted it, so now the tension has migrated. Now it's a headache, and his sinuses are stuffed and swollen, even though his nose itself is empty. And he's so tired his eyes are starting to hurt too. Basically, everything above his shoulders is hurting in some way. And his stomach won't settle; it's like a stomach ache, or heartburn, without being either of those things; it's uncomfortable. And every time he moves, his heart starts racing, like it's saying "wtf! Why do you keep moving?! I just settled down!" So he keeps overheating, too.

And  _he_  keeps invading his thoughts. Stiles is just minding his own business and trying to get some rest, he really is, but every time he closes his eyes, he just kept picturing _him_. It's like a compulsion, and he can't help it.

Groaning in frustrating, Stiles turns over in bed, about to grumble to himself some more, but then his phone is going off.

It's _him_. _Derek_.

He answers reluctantly. "Yeah?" He wheezes.

"Stiles, where are you?"

"In bed; dying." He replies.

"Are you sick?" Derek asks.

Stiles sniffles, trying to breathe, and eventually give up on using his nose. His mouth will be his new nose now.

"How'd you guess?" He asks.

He can practically hear the other man's glower. "You sound like a balloon that's being deflated." He says.

Stiles was starting to yawn when Derek spoke, but it turns into a sneeze, and at the end of Derek's sentence he ends up coughing horribly and sniffling snot. It's a huge, loud mess that makes Derek chuckle. Stiles is out of breath when he finally speaks again. "What did you want, Derek?"

"It doesn't matter, but I'm coming over anyways."

"What?" He asks.

"Just lay down, Stiles, I'll be over soon."

The call ends and Stiles is left alone with his tissues and some confusion.

 

*

 

Stiles is dozing almost peacefully, having forgotten about his soon-to-be visitor, and he startles a little when he hears movement in his apartment. He opens one eye and sees the culprit of such loud noises; his favorite sourwolf.

Derek is moving around, doing stuff, and Stiles would normally go bug him, but he just doesn't have the energy right now. Just looking at Derek walking around, full of life, is exhausting.

Derek walks up to where Stiles is laying and sits next to him on the bed, reaching out a hand to feel his forehead. "You feel warm," He says.

"You're a werewolf, everything is warm to you." Stiles wants to say, but then he realizes that his nose is dead to him and now his replacement nose (a.k.a. his mouth) must have visited the desert in his sleep, because there is no moisture left in it at all. He's about to beg for a drink when a glass of water appears in front of him from nowhere, like Derek knew about his new dilemma before he did, and he accepts it greedily. A few sips, though, and he makes a face at Derek.

"Dude, this is warm water! Like, actually cooked warm water!"

"I know." Derek says. "It's easier for your body to absorb warm water than it is for it to absorb cold water. Also, the heat will help loosen your sinuses and soothe your throat."

Stiles stares at him, and Derek shifts impatiently. "Just drink it, Stiles." He grumbles.

"It's still gross." He says, but he does try to drink the water. Amazingly, it does help some.

Derek makes him drink two more glasses of warm water and then brings him a bed tray with soup and crackers on it. They sit in relative silence while Stiles tries to force down the light meal, but it's really not that awkward or uncomfortable. When he's done, Derek carries the tray to the kitchen and returns with a large bowl and a towel. He places the towel over Stiles's head and shoulders, and the bowl against his chest.

"What're you doing now?" Stiles asks him.

"This should help with your congestion. Just breathe in the steam."

Although confused, Stiles follows his directions. He plants his face practically in the bowl, with the towel covering both him and the bowl, and tries to inhale the steam. The bowl itself is so large that all of the water will stay hot for quite a while, so within five minutes of this, Stiles can feel all of Derek's care finally working. His chest and sinuses are loosening, and it's getting easier to breathe. It's a welcome change, although his headache still persists.

When it's time, Derek takes away the bowl and towel, and Stiles's misses the warmth a little bit. But he doesn't say that out loud. Derek gives him some medicine and water, and tells him to try to sleep, he'll be back in a little bit to check up on him; and then he's turning off the lights, tucking him in, and disappearing. Stiles sleeps easily, warm on the inside from such great care, and wondering why.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not sure how long this story will be, and I definitely did not picture this chapter going the way it did. But the last chapter didn't feel finished, and when plot takes hold of you, what can you do...

Over the next two days, Derek comes by the apartment and helps nurse Stiles back to health. Stiles is proud to say he pukes only once during his whole sick phase, and thankfully it happens when Derek isn't there, so he can avoid that humiliation.

Derek comes and goes during that time, since he can't drop everything to look after Stiles, but when he can be there, he is. At the end of the weekend, Stiles is feeling in tip top shape again, ready to face the world. When Derek leaves to go take care of business or whatever, he calls Scott to tell him about Derek being his nursemaid, literally nursing him back to health, and how weird that was. Scott agrees with him about it's weirdness.

When he asks Stiles why Derek did it, though, he can't answer him. So, Stiles means to ask Derek himself about it, but it never happens. Things come up, he gets distracted by stuff/things/people/life, and forgets. But after that first time, whenever Stiles gets sick, Derek will show up at his apartment and play doctor. It's weird, because they don't talk about it and Derek gives no explanation, but it's also nice to be cared after. It's definitely not something Scott would ever do for him, BFF status not withstanding.

 

 

The newest incident happens after work; he's getting back early from his part-time, ready to shuck everything and collapse in bed, but then Derek is literally strolling through his door and ordering him around, somehow already psychically knowing that Stiles is feeling unwell.

"Go lay down," he says. "I'll make you soup, but you better eat it."

God, sometimes Stiles wonders about that man. Like, how the fuck did he even know? They didn't even see each other or speak on the phone! He just knows!

He grumbles under his breath about Derek's bossiness, but does what he's told anyways.

"I was literally about to lay down anyways." He says. "Don't think I'm doing it because you told me to."

Derek just gives him a look and goes to make his "Make Stiles Feel Better"soup.

Despite their best efforts to cut this thing off at the head before it transforms into a beast, Stiles still gets fully sick, and he gets way worse before he gets better. He pukes a couple times, always shutting Derek out of the bathroom when he does. But Derek is there the whole time; plumping his pillows unnecessarily, refilling his water glass, sponging the sweat from his brow.

During one particular moment of fever madness, the question that's been plaguing Stiles falls from his mouth without his meaning to. "Why are you always taking care of me?"

Silence rings afterwards. They've both frozen: Stiles in shock that he actually asked, and Derek in some other form of shock or confusion, or, something... Derek looks at him, and Stiles can feel the words leaping from his mouth. "I mean, every time I get even a little sick, you're here feeding me soup and giving me medicine and making sure I feel better. It's weird! I mean, not that I don't appreciate it! Because I really do, like I really really do, but I don't understand why. Although, come to think of it, how do you always know I'm sick before I tell you? Like today, I didn't even tell anyone in the pack I wasn't feeling good, so I know it wasn't from them, so how? How do you always know?"

Derek is looking at him strangely, like he's an alien speaking another language, which, Stiles gets that look fairly often after babbling, but not usually from him. Derek is pretty good about keeping up with Stiles and his babbling.

He clears his throat a little and rubs his fingers over his scruff. "Stiles, have you not noticed that you've been getting sick a lot lately?"

What? What does that have to do with anything? How does that answer any of his questions?

But Derek is giving him that look, so he tries to think about it before answering, hoping that Derek will answer his own next. "Uh, yeah, I guess so. Why?"

Derek sighs and looks at his lap for a moment before looking back at him. "Do you remember that night Scott got back his test results from the college, and you guys went out drinking?"

Stiles nods. That was a memorable night after all, he had so much fun.

"Do you remember coming to see me afterwards?"

He frowns in confusion, because of course he doesn't. He wasn't aware of seeing Derek there at all that night.

"No, what-"

"Stiles, we had sex that night."

He says it gently, like he's aware that it's world-breaking news, but Stiles just doesn't comprehend it.

"What?"

"We had sex." Derek repeats. "You were drunk, although at the time I thought you were sober enough to remember it. I guess not. But I think that's why you've been getting sick so often lately."

"What? What are you saying?"

There's a long pause before Derek speaks, and Stiles feels his heart racing in his chest, because surely he's misunderstanding things. Derek can't really be saying what he thinks he's saying? Right? Right??

"I think you've been getting sick because - well - I think you might be pregnant."

"WHAT?!"

Derek winces at his shout, leaning back for a moment before taking his hand in his own.

"I can't be sure yet, but you smell pregnant to me." He says. "Especially given the length of time between that night and when you started getting sick. You smell just like the women in my pack did when they started carrying."

"Woah woah woah!" Stiles says, raising his hands in front of him. "Hold up! I'm not a girl, Derek! How could that even be possible? And even if we did have sex," he pauses uncomfortably. "Why would you not tell me? Or talk to me about it? That was like, forever ago, Derek."

Derek nods in agreement, a strange look on his face. "I know." He says. "But then in the morning you acted like nothing happened, so I thought you just wanted one night. I didn't realize you were too drunk to remember. You seemed really... Cognizant."

They look at each other in silence, until it seems to drag on for too long. Derek's shoulders are bunched up, and he seems smaller then normal in that moment.

"I'm sorry, Stiles. If I had realized you didn't remember, I would have talked to you about it. But I thought you didn't want to do that."

Stiles nods unconsciously and seems to remember his other question. "But wait, how would pregnancy even be a possibility with me? I'M A GUY!"

Derek rubs a hand over his scruff, still deeply uncomfortable with this whole conversation, and it's implications.

"Like I'm said, I'm not positive about it. But, it's been known to happen before with a werewolf and his mate. Something about our innate magic makes it possible. I don't know."

He breathes out heavily and looks away from Stiles. "My pack use to have books about this kind of thing: lore, myths, legends, expectations, traditions. But it all burned in the fire, and I never bothered to read much of it anyways. Deaton might be able to help some, he was the emissary to my family's pack for many years."

They're both quiet as Stiles sits and processes what was said. He doesn't even know where to start with this.

"So... You've been caring for me when I'm sick because - you think I might be pregnant with your kid?"

"Yeah."

Stiles looks over at him, trying to figure it all out, but Derek isn't looking at him; he's hunched over, with his hands clasped together on his knees, and his head bowed. He seems to be waiting for Stiles' wrath, his judgement.

Would serve him right if I was mad at him, he thinks.

"I think you need to go get some of those pregnancy tests." He tells Derek.

Derek looks vaguely ill, but he nods in agreement and stands. "Yeah, I'll go get some."

In a matter of moments, Stiles is left alone in his apartment, and he's not entirely sure he wants to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek is in his bed, kissing his stomach, hands sliding up his thighs. Stiles shivers, seeing the dark head of hair between his legs, and he nearly jumps when Derek's mouth touches his hip.

Derek grins at him and wraps his lips around Stiles' cock, and Stiles feels his heart beat harder in his chest.

Pleasure courses between his legs, and he grips a fistful of dark hair, biting back a moan.

Hands wrap around his thighs, holding on tightly while he squirms, and he pants into the dark, every lick and suck pushing him closer to the edge.

"Derek!" He gasps out.

Derek pulls of his cock, slurping obscenely, and lifts his head to look at Stiles.

"AAAAHHHH!"

Stiles shouts, scrambling back in fear as he looks at the man in front of him. What's supposed to be a man.

Electric green eyes stare back at him, a monstrously long tongue licking at lips that house wicked sharp teeth, like the demon from Spiderman three.

Sharp, talon-like claws tear into his thighs, keeping him from running away, and he tries to push the not-Derek's head away from his private bits.

Blood runs down his thighs, seeping from between its fingers, and soaking the bedsheets below him.

"Get away from me!" He screams.

Not-Derek smiles at him with all teeth and presses its hand into Stiles' chest, claws puncturing the skin and digging in deep, deep, deep.

"Derek." He whispers the word, trying not to choke on the blood in his mouth.

Claws wrap around the beating muscle in his chest, squeezing painfully, and the last thing he sees is not-Derek pull his heart from his chest and stuff it into its mouth, blood dribbling down it's chin.

 

**

 

A hand grips his shoulder tightly, and Stiles bolts upright in bed, eyes flinging open and mouth wide open on a scream.

He looks around widely, arms flailing in defense as he sees Derek kneeling on the edge of the bed, his hands open in front of him.

"Stiles!"

"Derek." He gasps out.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he looks down to see the pale, unharmed skin on his chest, and his thighs.

"Stiles, are you okay?" Derek asks him.

Stiles' hand rests on his chest, feeling each blessedly erratic beat, and he breathes out slowly, coming down from his panic.

"It was just a dream." He says to himself. "Just a dream."

Derek touches him on the arm tentatively, and when Stiles doesn't flinch away, he gathers the younger man into his arms.

"I was only gone for an hour." He says, and Stiles chokes on a laugh.

When he feels like he can breathe again, he pulls away to see a grocery bag on the floor, just outside the bedroom.

"What'd you get?" He asks.

Derek pulls away and goes to scoop up the bag, carrying it over to the bed. He hands it Stiles, letting him rifle through it himself.

"Anti-nausea, salt crackers, Powerade," he mutters. "Aaand a box of pregnancy tests."

Derek nods his head, not meeting Stiles' eye. "You can take the test whenever you want, whenever you're ready. There's no rush to find out."

"Yeah there is." He sighs. "I gotta know for sure, in case I am, before it gets too late. I mean, just in case."

Derek freezes, a stricken look on his face, before silently nodding.

"I'll go make you that soup now, if you're still hungry?"

"Yeah, that'd be good."

Derek nods at him again -something he seems to be doing a lot lately- and heads down the hall to the kitchen. Stiles can hear him puttering about, purposefully making a ton of noise, and he sits in the bed, staring at the rectangular box labeled Clear Blue. He thinks about the dream he just had, remembering it vividly, and wonders about that, and what might be going on in his body.

When his thoughts get to be too much, he flings himself out of bed, grabbing the dreaded box, and heads to the bathroom.

All the kitchen noises seem to stop simultaneously when he enters the bathroom, and he waits until it resumes before opening the box, glaring at Derek in his head.

"Instructions first." Stiles tries not to lose his cool before even doing anything. His hands shake a little opening the box.

"Minus equals negative, not-pregnant, a cross equals positive, pregnant. Seems pretty simple." He mutters to himself. "Now to take it."

 

**

 

Derek can hear Stiles muttering to himself in the bathroom, but he tries not to listen in, giving him the privacy he needs for this. Instead he focuses on making Stiles dinner: the one soup he likes to eat when he's not feeling well. He chops up onions and carrots, celery and cucumbers, and waits for the broth to finish before adding the chicken bits. He washes the dishes he's finished with, and gets out a bowl while he waits. Ten minutes later he calls out to Stiles that the soup is done, and notes the light still on under the bathroom door.

"Stiles?" He calls out again.

It's a couple of quiet moments where Derek is wondering if something went wrong in there, if he should be worried, when the door cracks open and Stiles slowly emerges.

He's pale, and Derek can see a slight shake in his limbs, and he feels his heart plummet into his gut just looking at him.

"Stiles?"

Stiles takes a couple of dazed steps towards him and Derek hurries to him.

"You took the test?" He guesses.

Stiles nods his head. "I used them both, to make sure whatever came out was right." He pauses, licking his lip . "I was sitting on the tub for five minutes because I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't."

"Stiles," Derek emphasizes, trying to get him to focus. "What did the test say?" Derek already knows what it says, he trusts what his werewolf senses told him before Stiles took the test; but he needs to hear Stiles say it aloud.

"What did it say?" He repeats.

Stiles looks up at him and Derek unconsciously moves closer to him.

One heartbeat.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Derek opens his mouth to urge him again -

"I'm pregnant."

Five.

He looks like he's going to be sick, just saying the words, and now Derek doesn't know how to feel about the confirmation.

"I'm pregnant, Derek." Stiles repeats.

"I know." Is what he ends up saying back.

Stiles' shaking increases, and before Derek knows what's going on, Stiles is in his arms, crying like he's never heard from him before. It breaks Derek's heart to see him this broken up.

"Shhhh." He hushes, squeezing Stiles tightly. "It'll be alright. We can do whatever you want about it. Don't worry, it'll be okay."

Stiles cries into his shirt, wetting the fabric, and clings to him, and Derek vows to himself to do right by him, whatever that means to Stiles.

 

**

 

They don't notice until later that the soup has burned and stuck to the bottom of the pot, but when they do, Derek just makes a new batch. They eat in silence on the couch, and it's extremely awkward for both of them. Derek cleans up afterwards and Stiles shuffles off to his bedroom to collapse in bed; the day's worth of emotional rollercoasters has completely worn him out, and he's ready to sleep some more.

When Derek is finished in the kitchen, he finds Stiles' making himself into a burrito with the bed covers. He smiles briefly at the image he makes, and approaches the young man carefully.

"Hey, it's getting late."

There's no response.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Again, silence. He waits a moment, then turns to go, hand raised to flip off the light switch.

"Wait."

He turns back to him and sees an eye peeking out from the covers, looking at him.

"Can you stay?"

Derek pauses, seeing if he heard him right, and then nods.

"Yeah, of course I'll stay." He says. "I'm gonna go turn everything off. I'll be right back."

"Okay."

The covers move in something like a nod, and Derek turns to shut off the lights and TV. He kicks off his shoes by the front door, next to Stiles', and hangs up his leather jacket in the closet off of the front door.

Stiles is quiet when he gets back to the room, and he sits next to him on the bed, on top of the covers.

"Do you want me to sleep on the couch?" He asks.

"No." Stiles says.

His heart misses a beat, and he stares at Stiles through the covers.

"Do you want me to sleep in here, with you?"

"Yeah." Stiles only waits a moment before answering him this time.

"Okay." Derek says, and he gets back up to turn off the lights. He undresses in the dark and slips under the covers, keeping some distance between them. Stiles' back is to him, he's facing the door, and Derek looks at what he can see of him -mainly his hair- for a while. Neither of them says anything else, and eventually Derek turns over to sleep.

He's almost there when he feels Stiles' hand touch his on his hip. He looks over his shoulder at the boy, sees him still turned around, his arm stretched behind him, though, and grips Stiles' hand with his own.

He turns back around, listening to Stiles' heartbeat fill the silence in the room, and holds his hand tightly. And eventually they fall asleep that way.


End file.
